


Friday Night

by Maggiemaye



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Thunderstorms, Toby knows something about the human psyche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/pseuds/Maggiemaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As badly as he was itching to point it out to her, Toby decided that now would be a bad time for psychoanalysis. It didn’t take a shrink to see the pure rage contorting Happy’s face with every explosion of thunder outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "A thunderstorm is rolling through town and Person A is afraid of lightning/thunder so Person B offers some comfort." I loved writing this one, so massive thanks to the anon who prompted me! Enjoy and please let me know what you think :)

Fear markers looked different on Happy than they did on most people. Instead of shaking or cowering, she threw her walls up with a vengeance, as if the very idea of feeling afraid made her want to lash out like a viper. Classic reaction formation. But as badly as he was itching to point it out to her, Toby decided that now would be a bad time for psychoanalysis. It didn’t take a shrink to see the pure rage contorting Happy’s face with every explosion of thunder outside.

The next crash was loud enough that even Toby glanced instinctively out the window. Happy scowled even harder and clenched her hands down on the edge of the countertop. It had been storming for a while; Toby had commented on it once, but Happy’s increasingly long silences and tension were more intriguing to him than any conversation. He’d been watching her out of the corner of his eye, taking mental notes of those markers every time there was a noise outside.

By now, she was seething. Toby could practically see smoke coming out of her ears. And if talking to her wouldn’t work, there had to be something else he could do. Casting his eyes quickly around their kitchen, he was suddenly inspired.

“Close your eyes.”

Happy squinted suspiciously at him, but shut her eyes anyway. “Doc, what are you doing?”

“Just keep them closed, and hold out your hands.”

Another crack of thunder; Happy stiffened and thrust her open palms out with a huff. Toby let her pass it off as impatience, saying nothing as he unplugged the coffee maker, put the carafe aside, and placed it into her hands. She grasped it instinctively, running her thumbs softly along the edges.

“Why am I holding the coffee maker?”

“Just trying to figure out if you’re as good an engineer as you say you are. Take this thing apart and put it back together without looking.”

Happy scoffed. “I could do that with one hand tied behind my back.”

“We’ll try that next. Now less talking, more working.”

Happy got started without another word. She still flinched when the thunder was strong enough to rattle the floor, but she eventually got so engrossed in her task that the stiffness started to melt out of her posture. Every now and then she would call out items that were needed—a Phillips head, a pair of mini pliers—and Toby would fetch them. He tried not to feel too proud of himself when the next boom came, and Happy’s only reaction was a slight twitch of her hands.  

“I know what you’re doing, Doc,” she said after a while.

“Oh, really?” he countered. “What am I doing?”

“You thought if my eyes were closed, you could have a free pass to perv on me.”

Toby smiled; maybe he wasn’t busted just yet. “What can I say? I like watching you work. And it’s not pervy now that you’re my girlfriend. It’s just appreciation.”

Somehow Happy managed to roll her eyes without opening them, but she wasn’t quite successful at biting down her smile.  

“I see you laughing.”

“I’m laughing _at_ you. Because you’re dumb.” Outside, the thunder rumbled again. Happy swallowed once and immediately threw her concentration back into the coffee maker. It wasn’t long before it was reassembled, looking like new, and if Toby knew Happy, in even better working order than before.

“Next time give me a challenge,” she said with a smirk, blinking her eyes open. Toby gave her slow applause, noting the way her furrowed brow had softened down to almost normal.

“I think maybe the storm’s passed by now,” he said, careful to sound perfectly offhand and casual. “It’s definitely dying down, anyway.”

Happy just shrugged.

“I didn’t even notice. Hey, let’s order pizza.” She grabbed her phone and started asking him about toppings, debating cheese versus cinnamon breadsticks, the past hour seemingly forgotten.

It took every single ounce of Toby’s self-control not to ask her about what had just occurred. What was it about storms that scared her? He had his suspicions, of course. She likely had some sort of negative association with storms going back to her childhood in the foster system. But what, specifically? He was _dying_ to dig into that brain of hers _._ But he’d known Happy long enough to understand that directness would never work here. He’d always moved too quickly, betting too much too fast. That had been his downfall for as long as he could remember. Now, though, he was working on choosing his moments more effectively, deciding when to prod her and when to let things lie. Happy would talk to him when she was ready; his own curiosity could wait.

She hooked her ankle around his under the table while they ate their pizza; pepperoni for him, ham and mushroom for her. Toby tried hard to be nonchalant about it, like it wasn’t a big deal, but he could feel how smitten he looked as he smiled back at her. _Just let her do what she’s gonna do,_ Patrick had said to him. Taking that advice to heart had been the smartest thing Toby had ever done.

Eventually they migrated to the couch for a movie. They were both learning to enjoy the stillness of these times—no case, no projects, and nothing to occupy their brains except for whatever happened to be on TV. Toby, an unapologetic cuddler, was usually the one to make it physical, but tonight it was Happy that drew him close, letting him rest his head in the crook of her neck. By the end of the movie Toby was nearly sleeping as the sound floated at the edge of his awareness.

He jumped when Happy’s hand found his hair; even though they were together now, he still had those moments of _wait, what?_ whenever she touched him. But it didn’t take long for him to settle back into his stupor again, letting his head sag against her shoulder as her fingers found a gentle, hypnotizing rhythm.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” He cracked his eyes open at her half-whispered word, squinting up to find Happy looking down at him.

She pressed her lips to the crown of his head, not quite a kiss but close enough. “Just…thanks.”


End file.
